


White Wolf of Windhelm

by LotharWinchester



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Bosmer Dragonborn, Cannon Divergence, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M, Mara (Skyrim), Mentions of Ill Met By Moonlight, Nine Divines, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut, Stormcloaks, Thieves Guild, eventual Dragonborn pairing, stormcloak relative
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-22 06:22:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2497772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LotharWinchester/pseuds/LotharWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unexpected guest to Jorrvaskr has the Companions in a tight bind between daedra and the Civil War.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_“Brother, do you smell that?”_ Farkas tilted his head to his brother’s wolf form. Vilkas nodded his head and slowed his pace.

Both werewolves stopped short at the sight of another were. It was a gigantic white wolf, undoubtedly larger than a horse, a snow bear, and both of the brother’s forms combined. 

 _“He’s hurt.”_ Farkas growled lightly as the semi dim witted man sniffed the air to double check his guess on the wolf’s gender. _“If he transforms back Brother, he might die.”_

Vilkas huffed and let out slight yip to get the wolf’s attention. He tried to stand in a warning display but only managed to aggravate his wounds. Blood pooled at the white wolf’s paws and dripped from his razor sharp teeth.

In a show of slight friendship and obedience, Farkas willed himself to set himself on all fours and tucked his tail between his hind legs.  Vilkas grumbled in a slight protest and followed suit. 

 _“My brother and I want to help you.”_ Farkas spoke as he neared the tense wolf.

With a shuddering gasp, the white wolf quickly transformed back to his human form and a badly beaten Nord glanced back at them.

Once Farkas and Vilkas shifted back, Farkas reached into the small bag tied to his arm and pulled out several healing potions.  He approached the unnamed Nord slowly and uncapped the potions.

Vilkas noted the torn knapsack a few feet away from the Nord and moved to retrieve it while Farkas helped the man take each potion.  He returned to Farkas and opened the sack. Vilkas found a journal, a coin purse, and a set of fine clothes.  Tied to one of the arm straps was the man’s only weapon; an Ebony great sword.

“We’re Companions.” Vilkas voiced up as Farkas wiped the dried blood from the blonde haired man’s wounds. “You’re on the outskirts of Whiterun my friend.”

Both of the brother’s eyes met the stranger’s as he looked between them.

“My name is Viktor…” the man turned and spat a mouth full of blood onto the ground, “I am from Windhelm and seek your protection.” 

* * *

 

 

Once Viktor had managed to slip into his clothes, Farkas lifted the taller man onto his back while Vilkas grabbed the almost forgotten knapsack.  They made their way back into Whiterun through the Underforge Passage, knowing that Viktor would not remember how or where the passage led to.  Once inside the main room of Jorrvaskr, Vilkas motioned for Tilma to bring the men food and went off to find Kodlak. Farkas slowly moved away from the crowd and placed Viktor on one of the many benches. Tilma returned with food and a lean bucket of water for Viktor to clean up with.

“Thank you” he managed as Tilma smiled. He turned to Farkas as he grabbed the wash cloth from the bucket and started to wash his face.  The two sat in a comfortable silence with the only the occasional crunch of food and shout from the rest of the Companions. 

Viktor dropped the cloth into the bucket beside his bare feet when he was satisfied with the cleanliness of his face.  Farkas stopped eating and started at the blue eyed man. 

“By the Nine…”   Just as Farkas was about to put two and two together, Kodlak interrupted him.  
  
“You are welcome to stay here Viktor.” The older man nodded once and Vilkas moved to stand beside Viktor. “But I know why you are here.”

Vilkas glanced to his brother and shook his head at the shock and confusion clearly visible.

“I’m sorry if I’ve caused any hardship by seeking your help.” Viktor frowned. “I am still shocked I made it this far...” He paused and took a sip of mead, “I wish to join your ranks.”

“Anyone is welcome to join.” Kodlak registered Vilkas’s more than friendly gaze at their guest. 

Viktor nodded in thanks and Kodlak left to attend to Skjor’s call. Farkas instantly blurted out his thoughts.

“You look like Ulfric Stormcloak…” Viktor chuckled and nodded.

“Aye,” he smiled and took another sip of mead, “Ulfric is my cousin.”


	2. Hiding and Hunting

“Viktor Stormcloak…” Farkas awed as Viktor waved his hand.

“It’s just Viktor now, Farkas.”  The blond Nord frowned as Farkas continued to stare. “And yes, before you ask,” he sighed, “I’ve slain five dragons.” Viktor pulled a small necklace out of his pocket and slid it across the table.

Farkas handled the jewelry with surprisingly gentle hands. The whole necklace was made with dragon scales and hide. Multiple colors adorned it near the clasp and a strange wolf medallion hung from the end.

“Hircine gave it to me.” Viktor said after downing another cup of mead. “Not long after my cousin’s betrayal of his own bloodline…”

“Betrayal?” Vilkas growled lowly as Viktor curtly nodded once.

“Aye, that’s why I’m here.” Viktor paused and glanced off at the rest of the Companions. “I was with Ulfric a few days before he was captured. He tried to kill me because of this curse…” He reached out and took the medallion from Farkas subsequently to hand it to Vilkas. “He learned of my werewolf blood and how close I had become to Hircine to stop him.”

“To stop the Stormcloak movement?” the hall grew silent and Viktor nodded.

“I don’t support the empire, but my cousin’s vision is no better my friends.”

 

* * *

 

For many weeks, the only Companions that trusted Viktor were Farkas, Vilkas, and Kodlak. On several occasions both Vilkas and Viktor could be seen seeking out Kodlak’s advice or his company in general. It was in this time Viktor admitted he was a wanted man and that any had tried to bring him down on his journey to Whiterun including members of the Dark Brotherhood and the Thieves Guild.

“I don’t blame Brynjolf.” Viktor sighed as he tapped his fingers against his stein. Vilkas caught the slight glimmer in his eyes as did Kodlak.  “He’s a good man trying to make do with the treachery collapsing the Guild from the inside.” 

“Did you seek him out for protection?” Vilkas asked as Viktor ran his ringed hand through his dirty blonde hair.

“Aye, I did.” A bit of hurt showed briefly in his eyes, “Brynjolf and I have known each other for many years. We met in the Bee and Barb one Turdas. It was more of a drunken fight than an actual meeting.” Viktor laughed. “The bastard beat me.”

“Why would he break such a strong bond?” Vilkas felt himself drawn in by the older Nord’s story and how he managed to match his facial expressions with it.

“Bryn and I became more than just friends and great thieves.” Viktor coughed and rested his hand on the small table. An enhanced pickpocketing ring gave off a soft green glow. “I was more to him than I realized and I ruined it.” 

“The ring...”

“He gave it to me to keep my skills matched with other members of the Guild.” Kodlak watched as the man twisted the ring with one of his fingers. “Things changed after Brynjolf discovered a traitor in their midst. He was colder to me and then came wind from another member that he thought it was me.”  He stopped his story when Tilma approached.

“Viktor, you must clean your wounds.” The woman smiled softly and placed a bucket between his feet. She didn’t wait to hear if Viktor needed anything else because Najida was carrying Skjor down the stairs with Alea at his other side.

“Lover’s quarrel?” Viktor laughed lightly and Vilkas hung his head slightly to avoid any eye contact. “Never mind brother, back to my story.”

 Vilkas listened to the man talk long into the night. Kodlak moved them in the wee hours of the morning so he himself could rest.  Vilkas opened the door to his bedroom and found Viktor had brought another bucket of water to clean his wounds.

“Let me help you.” Vilkas stated as evenly as possible.

Viktor nodded for his arms to tired and flimsy from drinking. “Brynjolf and I were to be wed before the news of a traitor came about.”

Vilkas paused in mid scrub, “I’m sorry to hear that brother.” He grunted and continued to scrub the dirt away from Viktor’s chest wounds.

“Aye, maybe Mara has shunned me because of my ties to Hircine.” Viktor frowned as Vilkas glanced up at him. “But you brother, can rid yourself of this curse. Then I’m sure Mara will bless you with the gift.”

Vilkas smirked and coaxed the dirt out of Viktor’s arm hair and motioned for him to continue his story. “The tension between us eased enough where we rekindled our friendship. Then my battle with Ulfric tested him yet again.” Viktor frowned and turned his head away from Vilkas. “The price on my head in Windhelm is enough to make kings and queens across the lands jealous.” He exhaled and Vilkas brushed his own hair away from his eyes. “I wasn’t surprised when Bryn said he was giving me up.”

“He _what_?” The small wash cloth dropped into the bucket with a sopping sound. “How could he trade you?”

Viktor smiled and returned his gaze back to Vilkas. “Bryn had a change of heart brother.” He wiped an unshed tear from his eye. “At the last moment, he led me away from the Riften guards and told me to run.” Viktor stilled Vilkas’s hand from scrubbing. “And I never looked back.”

“Does a part of you still…” Vilkas stopped. He felt like the inquisitive little boy Farkas was when they were children.

“A part of me still harbors feelings for the man.” Viktor stood slowly and handed Tilma the bucket when she passed by Vilkas’s door. “But I won’t allow myself to feel that way about another ever again.” Vilkas moved to the side so he could slip into the spare bed. “I’ll just have to accept Mara’s choice for me.” Viktor covered his brief pain with a smile. “I am tired Vilkas, I’ll continue my story tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

 

 _“Ah Viktor,” The blonde shivered at the sound of Brynjolf’s voice so close to his ear. “You’ve only been with a lass.” He nodded and tensed slightly as Brynjolf gently dragged his palm down to Viktor’s lower back._ _“Don’t worry”. His voice soothed Viktor as he felt Brynjolf’s hand shift around the water of the small pool._

_It was a burglary job Delvin had found for Bryn a few days before. The mission was to steal several gold items strewn about a bandit camp outside of Markarth.  
Both men had stopped by the pool to bathe and relax after managing to take down two giants and a mammoth. _

_Viktor tensed at the slight intrusion of Brynjolf’s finger. “Relax Vi, I’m only trying to help you…”_

_Viktor nodded and willed himself to relax. He groaned shamelessly as Brynjolf added a second and then a third finger and huffed when the master thief stilled his hips with his free hand._

_“You’re so eager Lad.” Viktor moaned as Brynjolf quickly turned the semi incapacitated man around and pressed his back into the rock wall. “Shall we?”_

_Viktor nodded and Brynjolf speedily grasped Viktor’s hips in his hands while the blonde Nord fisted his hands in Brynjolf’s short red hair._

_“Bryn!!”  His throat was hoarse as he cried out over and over again. Brynjolf  smirked as Viktor threw his head back and continued to moan. “Please Bryn.. Please I…”_

_“Has it been that long Lad?” Viktor nodded and grasped the man’s shoulder in one hand while shamelessly touching himself with the other.” Oh Vi… I..”_

* * *

 

 

Viktor gasped as she tensed underneath his bed sheets. He hadn’t dreamt about his first time with Brynjolf in years.

 “Viktor, are you alright?” Vilkas asked as he rolled over. Viktor nodded and wiped the sweat from his brow and hoped his arousal wasn’t visible.

“Yes brother, I am fine.” He said shakily as he shifted to his opposite side again. “I’m sorry to have woken you.”

 

 


	3. Arentino Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the Kudos and comments on this fic. it means a lot to me. I also forgot to mention I don't have a beta so any mistakes are mine and mine alone.

“ _Duel wielding?_ ” Vilkas scoffed a little as Viktor started crafting another sword in the Skyforge.

“Aye, I duel wield or use destruction magic.” Viktor replied as he upgraded the new blade. “But I wish to make more….”

“Your ebony craftsmanship is astonishing.” Eorlund’s eyes gleamed. “The Skyforge is open to all of the members of the Companions just as long as you have the materials.”

Viktor chuckled and quickly went to work making more swords and placed two Daedric swords away from the rest.  “I only had that great sword because my blades were taken from me.”

“Where did you go after Windhelm?” Vilkas frowned as the man finished crafting another ebony sword.

“Many places.” Viktor paused after he refined the blade. “I stayed mostly in Dawnstar.” The Nord sighed and collected his newly crafted weapons. “I had cured the town of its nightmares and the Jarl promoted me to Thane.” Vilkas held out his hand to carry a few swords as they walked down the Skyforge steps. “I still have many friends there.”

Vilkas reciprocated the man’s smile. “Where else, Brother?”

“Markarth, Solitude,  Falkreath..”  Viktor nodded once to Yosalda as she passed. “Then I returned to Dawnstar for a while and now...”

“You’re here.” Vilkas sighed as he handed Viktor his swords to sell to Adrianne Avenicci and her husband.  “Will you tell me more when you return to Jorrvaskr?”

Viktor’s shoulders tensed but he nodded, “Aye, later on tonight.”

 

* * *

 

Vilkas watched as Farkas intently listened to Viktor’s stories of Dawnstar. He growled softly into his stein of mead in a way he believed would contain his frustrations.  Aela started at him while Skjor turned to listen to the story.  Vilkas quickly stood, unable to maintain his façade any longer, and escaped to the bunks below.

* * *

 

 

For many months, Viktor stayed with the Companions for training in combat and smithing.  He managed to steadily avoid talking about his cousin and his ties to Hircine until he got wind of the Arentino boy.

The news was carried by a man from Windhelm, a former gate guard, in the Bannered Mare. Viktor and Vilkas sat across from him watching the fire die while taking small sips of their mead.  Viktor’s, known as Vi to the Whiterun locals, body tensed at the news.

“The Arentino boy is preforming the Dark Sacrament in his home.” The guard shivered at the glare Viktor gave him. The bard stopped singing and gave him a questioning look.

“What’s wrong, Vi?” Mikael asked as Viktor motioned for him to resume playing.

“The Dark Brotherhood has not been kind to me in recent years…”  Viktor chugged his mead and paid his tab in full before he grasped Vilkas by the shoulder.

“The Dark Brotherhood is not known for its kindness, Vi.” Michael jested as Vilkas led Viktor to the door.

* * *

 

 

Vilkas sat in the carriage as Viktor paid for their trip; a nonstop ride to Windhelm and Vilkas handed Viktor commoner clothes as they approached. He had attempted several times to shake Viktor out of going into his cousin’s territory. He knew what would happen if they were caught.

“The Dark Brotherhood took something from me Vilkas.”  Viktor growled as he flipped his hood over his head and covered his face with a cloth mask.

Once the pair had managed to get past the guards along the main walkway into Windhelm, Vilkas grabbed the circular iron door handle and pulled the door open.

Viktor easily ignored the constant rambling from the townspeople as he motioned with his right palm to bare right.  They walked in silence until the neared a small inlet door.

“Stay here.” Viktor grunted as he knelt down to pick the lock on the door, “Keep a look out.”

 

\--

 

Unable to get a word in edgewise, Vilkas grumpily waited for Viktor to return.  He had to hide away for two Windhelm guards as they walked by. While he hid from the second guard, Viktor opened the door right into him.

He hissed in pain and the blonde quickly healed Vilkas’ nose. “Riften.”  Was the only word the Nord uttered as he drew his hand away.

With another carriage ride under their belts, Viktor gently clasped Vilkas’ hand and left him to a small house away from the hustle of Riften’s center market and its surrounding businesses.

“”Whose house is this?” Vilkas asked as he unclasped his armor while he glanced around.

“Dragonborn’s.” Viktor tossed the other Were a bottle of Black Briar mead with a smile. “Don’t fret, I’ve got a deal made with her.”

“ _Her..?_ ” Vilkas smiled slightly in confusion as Viktor peeled off his hood and mask.

“Aye,” He grinned and tossed their packs on the floor beside the bed. “I forgot you haven’t had the chance to meet her yet.”

Vilkas nodded and sat in the lone wooden chair beside a door. He glanced at it and Viktor grinned.

“It leads out to a porch.” Viktor said between bites of bread. “And a small fishing boat.”

“Have you stayed here often?” Vilkas asked as he tore into his portion of venison.

Viktor stopped smiling and shook his head. “I only stayed here a few nights after Bryn…”

“I see.” Vilkas whispered as he finished his meal. “What did the Arentino boy tell you?”

“He thought I was with the Dark Brotherhood.” A sarcastic chuckle made its way out of the blonde’s mouth, “I said nothing to confirm or deny it.” He shifted out of his seat and stoked the fireplace across from the table and beside the main entry. “He gave me more valuable information.”  The clank of a wooden spoon in the cooking pot grated on Vilkas’s nerves. “That they cannot communicate with the Night Mother.”

Vilkas had read up on the Dark Brotherhood during their journey and understood the severity of the remaining member’s link to the Night Mother. With no Listener, they would have to hear about those preforming the Black Sacrament by word of mouth.

 “You took a job from the Dark Brotherhood?”  A slight shiver traveled down his spine as Viktor nodded once.

“The boy wants Grelod the Kind to be killed.” He slowly stripped out of his newly crafted Wolf armor and placed it beside the bed. “I will go tonight and then we will return to Jorrvaskr.”

Vilkas followed behind and dropped onto the right side of the bed.  He hadn’t slept once over the course of their trek.

“Sleep.” Viktor whispered as he reached under the bed. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to leave.

* * *

 

 

Around eleven thirty, Viktor slipped into his old Thieves Guild armor and gently closed the door behind him.  He had to do this fast. The severity of being caught not only by the orphans in Honorhall , but the Riften guards and possibly a current member of the Guild had started to test his resolve.  

He wasn’t worried about himself, rather the Companion back in his borrowed home.  Vilkas would have no way to escape unless the Dragonborn miraculously showed up.  From their last exchanged letter, she was in the College in Winterhold.

_“You’re falling for him.”_ He shook his head as he slowly stopped in front of the orphanage and glanced around.

“Never again.” He whispered as he picked the lock.

-

Inside, Grelod sat at a wooden table and ate as she looked back at the children periodically. She couldn’t see him that much was for sure. He’s been taught by some of the best thieves in all of Tamriel. He frowned at the memory of Devlin and Vex. There was no brotherly love between them anymore.

And Mercer Frey…

He’d always kept his suspicions about the man to himself. The man was one of the oldest Guild members, even if there had been a constant feeling in his gut whenever Mercer was around.

He pushed his thoughts off to the side and flicked a small ebony dagger across Grelod’s throat. It was an instant kill and far more than what she truly deserved.  He watched the life drain from her eyes before he backed away and pushed the door open behind him.

 

Word traveled fast. Just as he was preparing to wake Vilkas, two guards passed the front door of Honeyside whispering about a murder at the orphanage. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he gently shoved Vilkas off the bed who in turn shot up from the floor.

“We need to move.” Viktor whispered as he tossed Vilkas his pack “Now.”

 


	4. Animal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this sitting in my Elder Scrolls fanfic folder for almost two and a half years. there is just something about Viktor being my first game in Skyrim that drew me back in. Thank you to all that have read this fic from the beginning and to those who are beginning it now. any suggestions/inputs are welcome and encouraged! 
> 
> disclaimer: i don't own skyrim, only my OC and the Dragonborn character i created.

“This Grelod business has your stink all over it, Viktor.” Vilkas froze as a short, blonde female wood elf closed the door to Honeyside behind her. “Please tell me that isn’t so…”

Viktor turned, shrugged and smiled at the newcomer. _“Layla…”_

“Don’t,” she held her fur covered hand up to stop the taller Nord. “I can’t _believe_ you. You’re back in Riften for less than a _day_ before you cause all kinds of trouble!”

Viktor bit his lip and turned to Vilkas who still had his eyes trained on the mohawk sporting elf.

“Who is this elf?” He cleared his throat after a moment.

 _“Elf?”_ She scoffed as she grabbed an apple off of the table. “I’m no mere elf, Companion.”

“Vilkas,” Viktor scolded the younger Were, “That’s no way to speak to the Dragonborn.”

Before this news could settle in, Layla’s black eyes met Viktor’s blues. She frowned and shook her head as she motioned for them to use the back door. "Brynjolf has already heard of this…” 

Viktor growled lowly as he shoved Vilkas towards the door like a young pup. _“Let’s go.”_

* * *

 

Viktor politely paid the carriage driver extra coin to “drive and drive only”.  Vilkas shook his head and leaned back against the carriage rail.

“What will you tell the boy?” He had no idea how he should feel about this but he knew one thing. He wanted to know _why_ it was so important for Viktor to take down the Dark Brotherhood.

“I will tell him the truth.” Viktor glanced over at him and cracked his knuckles, “That Grelod the Kind is dead.”

“And then..?”

“Then I will wait.”  The blonde did not elaborate. Unbeknownst to the other Were, Viktor had been waiting for this day for two decades. Over half of the population of Windhelm knew.  Even the now silent Dragonborn that sat beside him knew.  She periodically glanced over at Viktor on the day ride.  It irked him.

\---

Vilkas waited outside at the Windhelm stables when they finally arrived. He shifted his weight from his right foot to his left foot with impatience while Layla chuckled darkly at his movement.  He needed Viktor to come back soon the lone guard on the snow covered cobbled road kept his eyes judgingly on him.  

The main gate creaked open and Viktor calmly strolled past the two gate guards.  He waved to Vilkas, the signal to get on the carriage and pay for a ride back to Whiterun.  With the extra coin placed inside the man’s hand, Viktor grabbed onto the side planks and hauled himself over.

The ride took longer than they expected and, with two broken wheels, they had to stop for the night near the Western Watch Tower. Viktor had insisted they stay because he noticed Vilkas’ exasperated state.

“We’re almost there.” Viktor shook his head and motioned the bed roll he’d spread out beside the carriage.  The driver, Sigaar, was already asleep inside the body of the carriage.  Viktor gazed up at the half moon and willed his inner beast to calm itself. He found it strange how every moon phase tugged at the wolf in different ways.  “Can you stomach me until we get back to Jorrvaskr?”

It was the first time their whole trip the older Nord had broached the subject Vilkas had dreaded. He nodded and as he sat down on the readied roll. Viktor shifted his gaze back up at the moon as Vilkas pulled some of the extra furs over his body.

“What is it like?” He asked as Viktor sat down beside him. “Your change.”

“It’s the same as yours.” Viktor tore his gaze away and focused his senses elsewhere. “I just have a stronger pull to it because of my ties to Hircine.”

Vilkas growled lowly and Viktor met his gaze questioningly.  The steel clad Nord shook his head. “You must have had a good reason to become so close to a Daedra.”

“Aye,” Viktor sniffed to check on Layla and Sigaar. He wanted to keep his blood a secret. “But that is a story for another time. Sleep.”

* * *

 

Vilkas refused to let his curiosity get the better of him this time and returned to Jorrvaskr after Viktor and Layla stopped in front of Breezehome.

“A part of me has missed this place, brother.” Layla smiled softly as she placed her pack beside the door. “I’m glad you’re managing the upkeep.”

The elder nodded and stomped up the stairs into the main bedroom. He heard Layla follow softy up after him. “What is on your mind?”

He shook his head. His head needed to be clear for this. Distractions and urges had to be forced out. He briefly glanced over at the Dragonborn who had slipped into more casual clothes. There was no way for her to understand the urges of an inner wolf.

“I can understand your need to exact revenge on the Dark Brotherhood, Viktor.” She paused as he stripped out of his armor and sank into the comfort of the king size bed. “But I know that is not what’s troubling you.”

Viktor shook his head and stretched his arms towards the weapon wall mount above. Layla shook her head and restrung her Dwarven bow. She hummed softly as she moved her attention from project to project. At one point, she picked up Viktor’s light armor and patched the holes.

He watched her in silence. The Dragonborn had saved him more times in recent months than he could count. Stormcloaks, thieves, bandits, townsfolk… they had all recognized him and tried to get the lump sum for him. Layla always managed to show up with an extra horse and warm food. She had managed to slip him into the Dawnstar court as another Thane under Skald so he could move about and investigate the Dawnstar Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary.  He discovered that it would not help him in his search for the members that remained. They had long since abandoned it for the Falkreath sanctuary. 

He’d let his hands reach towards Layla’s bow she had placed on the mount. He barely registered her lack of armor even though her tanned stomach had practically been in his face. The light from the bow’s enchantment illuminated the rings on his right hand. Muiri’s ring clenched to his index finger while Hircine’s ring glared back at him from his pinky.  Another token from one of his earlier conquests. 

* * *

 

Sinding was a follower of Hircine he had heard plenty about; he was not a very bright man and could barely hold onto his humanity. He had stolen Hiricine’s ring in hopes of more self-control and travelled to Falkreath to work for a local farmer. Hircine had appeared in Viktor’s beast blood fueled dreams in his Dawnstar home.  His orders usually came from the shrine he had built in the back of the house covered by newly planted trees and lavender bushels.  

 _“This quest for me may help you in your path for vengeance, my hunter.”_  The aspect of Hircine, a flying squirrel, vanished and the Falkreath crest briefly filled the empty space he’d left behind.

Viktor had a paint horse, Maskar, then and it took him half as long as the carriage trip half way across Skyrim usually would’ve.  He was still unnerved by his recent run in with a band of Morthal gaurds that had managed to get him to the Windhelm stables before Layla could free him a few weeks before. 

His worn Thieves Guild hood hid his face as he entered the Falkreath Barracks and continued on to the Jail below.  Sinding paced in the cell furthest to the left in four inches of cold water. Viktor grasped the iron bars with both of his gloved hands.  

The man begged. _Begged_ for him to take Hircine’s ring from his possession and made him aware of the curse Hircine had placed upon it.  Uncontrolled werewolf transformations. Great.  

He hid amongst the shadows until he safely left the city’s walls. The Guild armor that had once been like a second skin now gripped his torso almost as if it had the presence of mind to suck the very life out of him. Sinding had hinted towards the White Stag in order to receive further guidance from Hircine. The poor wretch hadn’t recognized him and for that, Viktor was relieved. Sinding would not tell anyone he had eluded capture yet again.  

His increased sense of smell led him past two bandits into a patch of woods where he took Sinding’s advice and killed the Stag with a well-placed strike of his two handed ebony sword.

The message was brief. Kill Sinding for his theft and betrayal. Hircine had thrown an extra wrench in his game and allowed more hunters to vie for his favor with this same task.  Viktor growled under his breath when the deer apparition faded from view.  He hadn’t turned in many months. It was his choice for the blood had slowly started to outlive its usefulness.

In a moment of uncertainty, Viktor prayed to Nocturnal for luck to complete the task as he untied Maskar. He had left the steed tied to the blacksmith’s rail to keep him from the cold wind that had worked its way through Falkreath.  He hadn’t prayed to her for her guidance in many years and hoped he was still in her favor that he’d gained after being separated from the Guild. 

\---

The trip to Bloated Man’s Grotto was quiet. The forests and roads remained clear of any wildlife. No birds sang nor was there any evidence of wolves or bears that often lurked in the shadows to catch a lone traveler.

Viktor’s nose scrunched at the smell of the grotto. Far too much blood had been shed in the main area for him to control part of his beast. He clenched his teeth together that only allowed a muffled howl to escape his chapped lips.  The Khajiit braced against a rock glanced up at him in modest pity before he lost his own battle for his life. 

He could smell more hunters up ahead. There were enough to make a battle worth fighting. His blue eyes constantly scanned the area for Sinding’s wolf which was another smell that had mixed with the scent of fresh blood.

“Never thought I’d see you again.” Sinding’s voice carried over the ledge he stood on.

“Hircine has ordered me to kill you.” Viktor coughed to cover his wolf’s hunger. “But I will not.” The lie came of his tongue with surprising ease. 

They fought in relative silence as each band of hunters was dispatched to Arkay’s realm.  Once the third and final batch of hunters were eliminated, Viktor parted ways with Sinding to set his true plan in motion.

“..you turned the chase inside out.”  Viktor smiled as the aspect of Hircine lifted the curse off of the ring and disappeared. The blonde Nord turned on his heels with a blank expression and quickly found his way back to Sinding.

He rued his inner wolf for this part of the plan. Viktor slowly tossed his provisions to the side and grasped his Daedric war axes as he hacked and tore Sinding’s flesh from his werewolf form. The wolf ceased its horrid howling within him. Viktor sighed in relief after Hircine handed over armor, the Savior’s Hide, and disappeared for what he had hoped would be a long, _long_ time. 

* * *

 

“Is it thoughts of Matheria?” Viktor’s musings quickly faded as his blood ran cold.

The Dragonborn realized her error; the elephant in the room that never fully hid away.

“Viktor I…” He held up his hand, which now only had Hircine’s ring.  His eyes shifted to a brilliant gold as he strode past her. “Where are you going?”

“For a run.”  He snarled as he rid himself of his shirt. “Don’t wait for me.”


End file.
